Aftershocks
by Brigadier-Erin-Lightning
Summary: /Tribute Sequel to When You Speak or Scream by mrsharryjamespotter/  Blaine has been dealing with his disorder for years, but when he finally reaches a breaking point, Kurt has to make the most difficult decision of his life.


**Aftershocks**

**By BrigadierErinLightning**

**Based on "When You Speak or Scream" by mrsharryjamespotter**

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><p><strong>Foreward: <strong>This is my tribute sequel to mrsharryjamespotter's amazing fanfiction. If you haven't read hers, I highly recommend reading it first. Also, I've offered two separate endings to this fiction, the first one (Ending A) being more tragic and the second one (Ending B) being much lighter. It's up to you which you choose to believe. As is typical with all of my fiction, this is straight-off-the-press, unedited and done all in one consecutive sitting. Hope you enjoy.

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><p>When it happens, Kurt isn't prepared.<p>

The nightmares that have plagued Blaine since the day of his attack have grown dormant in the passing years. "We had it under control," Kurt is whispering to himself, disbelievingly, a mantra. "It was getting better." He knows this isn't true, but god, it's the image he wishes he could paint himself into as he swerves along on the dark and lonely streets in the dead of the night, the ambulance's blaring red lights blinding him as he keeps tight on its tail.

The ambulance pulls into the hospital bay. Kurt can't find a place to park. He circles the lot, trying to keep calm. When a car dives in front of him to an open spot, he slams his fist against the steering wheel and falls still, tears prickling at the sides of his eyes. He blames himself. He thinks of his dying lover and all of the memories cascade together in quick succession: coming home from therapy two years ago. Blaine's smile, the first Kurt had seen since the disorder had taken his boyfriend from him. Snuggling up by the fire. The shaking, quivering, screaming young man balled into his arms in relapse. The poster they made by their own hands: COURAGE, hanging above their bed. Blaine getting better. And better. And smiling. And lowering his dosage. The therapist dismissing him. Celebrating. The engagement. Happiness.

Kurt staying after the show for a cast party at the producer's house.

Coming home to find the old hope chest open in the hall closet as he hung his coat.

Warblers photos strewn across the floor.

Blaine's jacket lying outside the bathroom.

Opening the door to hell. The blood. The body. The razor, inches from his hand.

Kurt wants to scream. He feels what it's like for Blaine now. The image won't leave his mind. The terror grips him and he feels like he's drowning, gasping for air. He forces the car into park, right there in the middle of the aisle. As he thrusts the door open and stumbles into the brisk fall wind, inhaling heavily as he does so, a thousand sharp pinpricks of air rushing back into his lungs force him back to himself. He sprints for the lobby. Damn the SUV. If obeying the laws of traffic means losing his last precious moments with his fiancé, he'd rather lose the car.

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><p>When they finally let him into Blaine's room, his fiancé is sound asleep, no doubt by medication of some sort – he might have shaken the hallucinations, but Kurt knew the nightmares never faded. An IV drip is stuck into one vein, a blood transfusion another. Kurt is vaguely aware of the nurse informing him that Blaine was lucky – he suffered a tremendous blood loss, but he will live. She uses that word, the foul, hated word, again, mentioning how lucky Kurt was to come home at the time he did – any longer and…<p>

Kurt tunes her out. Lucky, he thinks to himself. We've never been lucky. She leaves. He sits, clutching Blaine's hand in his own. He wants to say something, but the words don't come out. He presses his forehead to Blaine's fingers, ignoring the bandage running down the length of his arm. He cries. He was never supposed to be the strong one – that had always been Blaine. He was supposed to have the minor, back-up job working at the local bookstore. Blaine was the one destined for the theater. Kurt was supposed to be the one who cooked and cleaned and knitted and annoyed the neighbors with his Liza Minelli singing at two in the afternoon as he put a tray of cookies into the oven. Not the boy who sat over the body of the man he loved with no words and no excuse for leaving him alone when he needed him. He should have known. He should have gotten rid of anything that could have reminded Blaine of the past. They both cherished their time at Dalton Academy, but Blaine's episodes were so much worse when he was reminded of anything to do with his former self. It had been selfish of Kurt to leave those things lying around where Blaine could find them, to keep them on the off chance that – unlikely as it was, and had been since Blaine's assault – they would settle down and have a normal family and children to share those memories with. Even more selfish to leave for the night – to leave Blaine alone for the night – for a party.

"Stupid," Kurt whispers. "I've been so stupid, Blaine. I wish I were the one in your place. I wish…" And his voice catches in his throat. 'I wish you had never met me,' are the words lingering on his lips. 'I wish you had lived your life at Dalton, and I had lived mine at McKinley, and no one had paid you a second glance – that we hadn't moved to New York to pursue my career, that you hadn't been on the way to see me when it happened, that I hadn't failed you.' "Maybe you would be better off without me," Kurt whispers. When he gets no answer, he lays his head against Blaine's chest and listens to his heartbeat, the tears coming steadily, bringing sleep in their wake.

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><p>The next few days are a blur of towing notices, nosy cops, worried therapists, and nurses checking in. It's a joint decision by the therapist – Melinda Melbourne is her name, Kurt remembers - and by the police that Blaine be kept for a minimum of three days for psychiatric supervision. No one but Kurt blames him for what has happened, but he wishes they would – it's much worse to have them pointing fingers at Blaine who, when he regains consciousness finally, resurfaces straight into one of his memories and screams so that Kurt has to hold him still while the nurse sedates him again. "He's not well," Kurt thinks. And it hurts so much to admit it and to admit that there is no cure.<p>

On the third day, Blaine's parents arrive. Kurt has not met them on many occasions and often their meeting causes him discomfort. It's not that they don't love their son or Kurt himself – they surely do love Blaine and Kurt knows how hard they have tried to help him through this, financially, at least, which is the best way they know how – but they have never loved who Blaine is. Samantha and Donald Anderson fall into that category of parents who wish they didn't have a gay child, but force themselves to overlook the sexuality they so disapprove of and love their son as best as they can. They are very prim and very proper, aristocrats who retired to the country lifestyle after making their fortune in the city, and they have always provided for the boys, even though Kurt has jokingly said on occasion that they have the emotional capacity of a pair of corpses.

They seem eager to leave the moment they arrive. Samantha can't even look at Blaine and Donald channels his energies into a disapproving glower at his son's fiancé from the other side of the glass door which leads into the hallway. Kurt isn't relieved to see them. They have never come any of the other times Blaine's condition has gotten him hospitalized, not even, and Kurt's hatred of them stems from this, when the incident first occurred. A few minutes pass, and then the therapist is outside as well. She's been assessing Blaine's condition since she heard of his arrival here. Worry creases Kurt's brow. If she's out there with them, she must have come to a conclusion. He's hurt she didn't talk to him first, but he knows it must be something important from the look on Samantha's face and, excusing himself as he is won't to do, though he's fairly aware that Blaine doesn't hear him, he joins them in the hallway.

He has arrived too late. "I'll leave you two to think about it," the therapist is saying, eyeing Kurt as if she knows he will be dissatisfied with her findings. Kurt stops her as she turns to go by asking what there is to think about, but Samantha saves the therapist from coming back by standing, shakily, and laying a hand on Kurt's shoulder – the first contact she's ever had with him. Now he is genuinely concerned. "Can I talk to you?" she asks. Kurt gestures for her to lead the way and she walks to the far side of the hallway, around the corner, where Kurt can still barely see Blaine's room, barely see his fiancé.

"What's wrong?" Kurt demands. His hand is clenched at his side, and he can't stop the shivers.

"You know I love you and Blaine," she starts. Lies, Kurt thinks. You love him, You hate that he is with me. He bites his tongue. "And you know Donald and I want what's best for you both."

Kurt's teeth clench. "What did she say?"

She seems, for the first time in the years Kurt has known her, to be restraining her tears. She bites her lip as she says, in a near-sob, "There's nothing more they can do for him, Kurt."

"No," Kurt replies, sharply. "I don't believe that. We'll put him back on the anti-depressants. We'll increase his therapy sessions. I'll stay with him more than ever. We'll get through this." He's pacing, looking at Blaine.

"Suicide is a very serious thing, Kurt," she whispers the word, chokes on the indecency of it.

"He wasn't trying to-" Kurt snaps. He feels he needs to defend his fiancé. "It was the nightmares. He was just trying to stop one of his episodes. I should have been there-"

"You can't be there all the time," she replies. "You can't save him every time."

"Yes," Kurt replies, meeting her eyes. His are fierce and passionate. "I can. I will."

She shakes her head. Donald has walked up behind Kurt. Samantha is weeping into her handkerchief. "You want to save him," Donald says, putting a hand on Kurt's shoulder, "You'll let us get him treated."

"Treated how?" Kurt asks, turning, wary. He is frightened but resolute. He can sense the severity in Donald's voice.

"ECT. It's a simple procedure, and…" he pauses, thinking of how to phrase it, "This whole matter can go away."

"ECT…" Kurt repeats. "Electro-shock therapy?" His voice is shrill, panicked. He's heard about this before. "You want to just zap the memories out of him? What if something goes wrong? It's his brain you're messing with! He could…" his voice trails off.

Donald nods. "He'll forget. Everything."

Kurt swallows. "You want me to sign papers saying yes, wipe him clean, let us start anew – like it's that simple?"

Donald looks him straight in the eyes. His next words chill Kurt straight to the bone. "No. I want you to sign papers saying that he can start anew…with us."

Kurt is full of rage. "You want him to forget me? Forget all the years we spent together, everything we did – all of it? And you expect me to just stand there and watch as you rip the man I love from my arms and throw me out like trash? What in the hell makes you think I would abandon him? What makes you think I would leave him with people who couldn't even come hold their son when all of this started?" The rage swells. "Where were you?"

"Where were you, Kurt?" Donald replies. The arrow hits its mark, right in the middle of Kurt's heart. Kurt deflates. "What if you're not there next time this happens? What if you are and he does it anyway? He's not well, Kurt. This is the best option we have. He can start again – have a normal life, kids, a family…things you can never share with him because of this. You want him to be happy, don't you?"

Kurt's heart is breaking. The words he said to Blaine are echoing in his head. 'Better off without me…'

Samantha looks up at him with pleading eyes. She looks so very much like her son – thin, with beautiful, piercing eyes, now clouded by tears, her hair a dark brown but full and thick like Blaines'. "Please, Kurt, do it for him. Do it because you love him. Set him free."

Donald steps forward. "And we won't just throw you out. I'll pay for your apartment, your-"

"I don't want your money," Kurt snarls, though all of the vehemence is lacking. He sags like a balloon that has had all of its air let out. "I just want him to get better…whatever it takes."

"So you'll agree?" Donald asks, gruffly.

"I need some time. I want…I want to talk to Blaine first." Donald starts to interject, but Samantha stops him. He nods. "We'll be in the lobby when you're ready." They turn and leave, her leaning on him, two lonely ghosts trailing away down the sterile corridors. Kurt breaks down. The tears are uncontrollable. He feels horrible, the worst he's ever felt, worse than when Karofsky looked him in the eye and swore murder. He wants to vomit at the same time as he wants to run. He tastes the salt in the tears that pour down his cheeks. He places a hand against the wall to steady himself. A fate worse than death – to be alone. To be forgotten. Is this really how it's going to end?

Kurt wipes the tears away. He has to be strong. He returns to Blaine's room. When he opens the door, he sees the sorrowful eyes looking up at him. He rushes to Blaine's side, grasping his hand, though Blaine tries to pull it away. "You're awake," Kurt whispers. He's not going to cry. For Blaine, he's going to be strong. He thinks of the sign: COURAGE. He fights a losing battle.

"I'm so sorry," Blaine whispers. His voice is so weak. Kurt can tell, with a haunting finality, that he's given up. "They wouldn't stop. Oh, god, Kurt, they wouldn't leave me alone."

Kurt clasps his hand tighter. "I know, Blaine. I know, but we're going to make it better. I promise, it will get better."

"Will it?" Blaine looks him in the eye. A pulse of fear beats inside of Kurt's chest. Blaine's eyes are vacant, clouded, empty. "I've been fighting so long, Kurt. I'm so tired." He looks, at the same time, as if he will cry and as if he cannot and something in Kurt screams that he has to let go.

Kurt kisses his forehead. He runs his hands through Blaine's ebony locks, gazes into his eyes. Blaine blinks. "What are you doing?"

"Memorizing you," Kurt whispers. "At this moment, every feature – your hair, your face, your eyes…"

"Why?" Blaine asks.

"I don't want to forget you, Blaine Anderson," Kurt replies. "Every second of every minute of my life, I want to keep you right here, in my heart. Come hell or high water, Blaine, I love you. And I'm sorry I let you down."

Blaine shakes his head weakly. "You didn't let me down, Kurt. Don't blame yourself. I was weak. I just…I wanted to remember the good times. I wanted to give you the life we always dreamed we'd have." He suddenly remembers and looks around the room as though he's lost something. Kurt asks what and Blaine simply responds, "Where are my clothes? What I was wearing when I came in."

Kurt finds the clothes and Blaine instructs him to look in one of the pockets. Kurt pulls out a thin piece of newspaper and unfurls it for Blaine, but Blaine turns it to show Kurt. "Auditions, Kurt. I was going to audition for this show – a new Broadway show, Next to Normal. It's casting and I…" He starts to daze off. Kurt grabs him tightly, dropping the paper in his haste. He is failing. The tears are biting at the corners of his eyes. He steadies Blaine as Blaine fights to keep his eyes on Kurt. "I wanted to audition, so that you and I, we'd both be on Broadway together, just like we planned…I was going to practice…Candles…" he heaves the words and suddenly Kurt understands. Candles by Hey Monday. Their song from Regionals. Blaine had been in the hope chest to get the sheet music so he could practice. So he could move on.

Kurt sobs and holds Blaine close to him. "I don't want to live like this, Kurt," Blaine whispers. "I wanted to make you proud." The nurse has come in and is quickly working on sedating him. She gets the needle in. Blaine starts to go limp.

"You did, Blaine," Kurt whispers. "You were so brave." And Blaine drifts away in his arms as Kurt leans in and kisses him gently on the lips. Kurt cradles him until the last, and finally, nuzzling his cheek against Blaine's collar, he whispers, "And now, I have to be brave for you."

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><p><strong>Ending A<strong>

It's the day of the big operation. Kurt asked to be present, to watch what he could, to say his final goodbyes, and to ensure that Blaine pulled through all right. The operation goes off without a hitch. One minute, Blaine is Blaine Anderson, Kurt Hummel's beloved fiancé, and the next, he's on the road to forgetting. It will take many operations to ensure that the old memories die with the old Blaine, but for the short time between this and the next, he will be in a state of constant amnesia. He won't have to miss the things he forgot. Kurt runs his hand along the glass separating them. He looks at Blaine one last time. Or, at the man who is not Blaine, he reminds himself to control his emotions. Then he bids Samantha and Donald farewell. He has asked them to not speak to him again. He doesn't want to know what he's missing, his heart will do a good enough job of that without their assistance.

He returns home that night to an empty apartment. The walls are bare, the floors bare, the cupboards bare – his new life furnished by the Andersons in a simple way befitting the man he is without his better half: a mattress on the floor, broken dresser, all slumly items. He will make his own way now. He has grieved. He has grieved for weeks leading up to today. He has no more grief left in him, no more tears to cry. So he sits on the bed numbly and stares out the window at the starless night. He hasn't read in a while. He hasn't had time for himself. It might be nice to. He reaches into the dresser drawer to pull out his book…but his hand grasps a thin strip of paper instead. A casting call for Next to Normal. Blaine's casting call.

He stares at it a long time. Blaine's dream. He wonders, is this luck, or is the devil tormenting him? He flips the paper over and over, and then finally reaches for his phone...

Kurt feels alive under the lights. Maybe it's because he's living for two now. Blaine's memory burns bright inside of him – or rather, if it makes sense to the reader, he feels as if he has stepped into Blaine's body – all that confidence, that blazing desire, the need, the longing, the approaching terror. He glares down at the actress playing Diana and sings with Blaine's voice. It makes him feel stronger, because he knows this is a role that Kurt could never play.

"They've managed to get rid of me, I'm gone without a trace  
>ECT, Electric Chair, we shock who we can't save<br>They've cleared me from your memory and many more as well  
>You may have wanted some of them but who can ever tell<br>Your life goes back to normal now or so they all believe  
>Your heart is in your chest again, not hanging from your sleeve<br>They've driven out the demons and they've earned you this reprieve  
>The memories are gone, the aftershocks live on….<br>But with nothing to remember is there nothing left to grieve?"

And Kurt Hummel sinks into the darkness, only an echo left of him resounding in the darkened theater.

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><p><strong>Ending B<strong>

It's the day of the big operation. Kurt asked to be present, to watch what he could, to say his final goodbyes, and to ensure that Blaine pulled through all right. The operation goes off without a hitch. One minute, Blaine is Blaine Anderson, Kurt Hummel's beloved fiancé, and the next, he's on the road to forgetting. It will take many operations to ensure that the old memories die with the old Blaine, but for the short time between this and the next, he will be in a state of constant amnesia. He won't have to miss the things he forgot. Kurt runs his hand along the glass separating them. He looks at Blaine one last time. Or, at the man who is not Blaine, he reminds himself to control his emotions. Then he bids Samantha and Donald farewell. He has asked them to not speak to him again. He doesn't want to know what he's missing, his heart will do a good enough job of that without their assistance.

As he walks down the hallway, however, he hears a sudden gasp from Samantha. He looks back. Blaine is awake. A horror courses down his spine. The doctor said he wouldn't be conscious for at least six hours. He fights with himself, trying not to go back, but his worry gets the best of him and he runs back over to the glass. He sees Blaine's lips moving, the eyes trying to fight against the anesthetic to open.

"What is he saying?" Donald asks no one in particular.

Blaine's hand moves. He's reaching toward the glass. One of the nurses ducks inside. But she doesn't need to relay the message. Blaine cries out a single word. "Kurt!"

And Kurt's heart is suddenly in his throat. He pushes past the stunned Andersons and runs into Blaine's room, pushing aside the nurse. "Blaine!" Kurt cries, grabbing the hand that has been reaching for him. He sees the fear in Blaine's eyes. It didn't work! Kurt curses silently. He prepares to hold Blaine down, but to his surprise, Blaine relaxes and the fear dissipates without force.

Blaine gives him a puzzled look. "Kurt?" he asks, confused. Kurt is afraid again. He chokes on the words as he whispers, "Yes, that's me, Blaine, I'm here."

Blaine's face lights up with a confused smile, a smile that warms Kurt's body and soul. "I don't think I know you," Blaine replies, "But I knew I needed you….and here you are."

A tear fell on Blaine's hand. "And I'll stay by you as long as you need me."

Blaine, a little shaken, lay back down. "I…can't seem to remember anything, really…except you…who are you?"

Kurt held his hand tight. Happiness. Sheer and utter happiness. "It's a long story. But we've got our whole lives ahead of us….so let's start from the beginning, shall we?" He held out his hand cordially. "I'm Kurt," Kurt said, gently. He remembered meeting, for the first time, in the halls of Dalton Academy.

Blaine took his hand. "And I'm…" A pause. He didn't seem so frightened to have forgotten himself as he was amused at his inability to recall himself.

"A miracle," Kurt replied simply. "Otherwise known as Blaine Anderson."

**The End**


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